Chapter 1Valora's POV
"Luna, you sure about this?" Corbin Ashmark asked quietly.
I sat across from him in the council's office—dim lamp flickering in the corner, air thick with dust and old files. He was the only elder in the pack who'd take this kind of case without asking too many questions.
"Yes," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I want the bond severance filed quietly. My mate can't know until it's done."
He looked at me for a long moment, then pushed the papers forward.
"You'll need his signature."
I nodded and slipped them into my bag.
When I got back to the pack house, the guards didn't even look at me. Nobody here cared about me. I'd become invisible in my own pack.
I knew Calix would be in his study.
Marcella's laugh drifted through the half-open door before I even got close.
"—so funny," she was saying.
"I know, right?" Calix replied, his voice relaxed in a way I'd never heard.
I pushed the door open.
Calix froze, whisky glass halfway to his mouth. His smile disappeared the second he saw me.
"Oh, hey! Valora, you're back already?" Marcella said brightly, her hand resting on his arm.
I nodded.
Calix didn't push her away. He just sipped his drink like nothing was wrong.
I looked away.
He'd never joked around with me like that. But with her? Different story.
"I need you to sign something," I said, pulling out the papers.
I flipped to the signature page and put it on his desk.
"What's this?" he asked, frowning.
"Just a waiver for a new client project," I lied. "I need your signature, you're my mate."
My parents died when I was seventeen. Calix's father took me in after that because my dad had been his Beta. That's how Calix and I ended up bonded three years ago—a political arrangement more than anything.
"Let me read it first," Calix said, reaching for the papers.
My stomach dropped.
He never read anything I gave him. Why now?
"Cal, come on," Marcella laughed. "It's just paperwork. You sign a hundred things a day. Just do it."
Marcella was the Vipercrest Pack heiress. She'd come back almost a year ago after her own bond fell apart. Since then, she'd been everywhere—at his meetings, in his car, always right next to him.
Calix hesitated, then grabbed a pen and signed with a quick scrawl.
I snatched the papers before he could flip to the front page and see BOND SEVERANCE PETITION in bold letters.
I walked out before either of them could see my hands shaking.
I went upstairs to the room we barely shared anymore. The bond had been dead long before today.
Actually, it hadn't always been like this.
Three years ago, Calix couldn't keep his hands off me. He'd pull me into dark corners during pack events just to kiss me. The bond between us burned hot and constant.
Now? He barely looked at me.
Calix was cold, ruthless, dangerous. At twenty-six, he'd already taken over as Alpha King after his father died. He'd expanded territory, crushed rivals, and built an empire that scared even human CEOs. The Council called him brilliant. The smaller packs called him the Iron Wolf .
I'd kept my distance from him growing up. Until one night three years ago changed everything.
He came home covered in blood—rogue blood.
I was in the kitchen patching up a knife wound from one of his father's drunk warriors who thought I was easy prey.
Calix helped me. Then he offered more than first aid.
He offered to mark me. A deal, he said. Protection for me, and solidify his position within the pack for him.
I said yes. Maybe out of fear. Maybe loneliness. Maybe because some part of me had always been drawn to him.
We completed the bond a week later under the full moon, his bite searing into my neck while the pack howled.
He wasn't romantic, but the pull between us was real. I fell for him—for the rare smiles he gave me in private, for the way his wolf purred when I touched him.
I thought I could make him love me back.
Then Marcella came back, and everything shattered. Suddenly she was everywhere.
Last month proved it. We were supposed to have dinner at The Silver Moon for our anniversary. I waited five hours. His Beta showed up instead with an apology gift—a diamond necklace.
The next morning, I saw the photos. Calix at a gala with Marcella on his arm, looking like the perfect pair.
That's when I started planning my escape.
I hid the severance papers in my closet, in an old jewelry box from my mother.
Thirty days. That's all I needed. Once the waiting period ended, the bond would be severed.
Calix could keep his pack. His empire. His Marcella.
I wasn't going to be the forgotten Luna anymore.
Chapter 2
Valora's POV
I'd signed the severance papers. Now I just had to wait—and plan my escape.
Two days later, I met with a design firm director in the Silvermoon City. They'd been following my work for months.
"We'd love to have you, Valora!" she said warmly. "The position's yours. You can start anytime in the next two months."
I said yes immediately.
Finally. A life that was actually mine.
Back at the pack house, I started packing in secret.
I turned my home studio into a staging area—boxes hidden under fabric samples and old sketchbooks. First, I packed the things that mattered: framed photos, my mom's necklace, a pair of worn ballet shoes I hadn't touched in years.
Every day, I packed a little more. Because no one could know I was leaving.
Three days later, Calix walked into my studio without knocking.
"Didn't know you still came here," he said from the doorway.
I turned, startled. He was leaning against the frame, half-smiling—something I hadn't seen in months.
"It's the only place no one bothers me," I said lightly.
"Even me?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Especially you."
For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Something that made my stupid heart skip.
"Come with me," he said suddenly.
"Where?"
"Dinner. Just us."
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
But we made it to the front hall before Marcella appeared, tablet in hand, silk blouse perfect as always.
"Cal, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me like I didn't exist. "Ravenscourge's shipment got held up. If we don't act now—"
"It can wait," Calix said coolly.
"No, it really can't."
She held out the tablet. Calix hesitated—just for a second—then took it.
I watched his attention shift. Watched her step more closer, voice dropping low.
The dinner plan died right there.
I should be used to it by now.
Every attempt I made—breakfast, a drive through the territory, even late-night talks in bed—Marcella always showed up. A phone call Calix "had to take." Urgent papers she "couldn't wait to deliver."
And he never sent her away.
What do I mean to him, really?
My resolve hardened with every interruption.
A week later, I sat in our bedroom, thinking about Silvermoon. Starting over wouldn't be easy. Should I stay? Give him—give us—one more chance?
Maybe if I just told Calix how Marcella made me feel, he'd listen. Maybe things would change.
She was the problem, right? Not us.
My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. I'd been feeling off for days—tired, nauseous, constant headaches. I'd blamed it on stress.
But the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.
Could it be...?
I drove to the pharmacy, bought a test, locked myself in the bathroom.
Five minutes later, I sat on the cold tile floor, staring at two pink lines.
Pregnant.
My first reaction wasn't fear. It was hope.
And I hated myself for it.
Hated that I thought maybe this would finally pull us closer. Maybe a baby would make him see me—not just as a convenient Luna or someone he slept with, but as someone who actually mattered.
He couldn't be heartless enough to push me away when I was carrying his child. Right?
For the first time in months, I felt hopeful.
Maybe I wouldn't have to leave after all.
I waited for Calix to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, left my hair down, set two glasses on the table—wine for him, water for me.
He came in late, on the phone, loosening his tie while barking orders.
"Calix," I said quietly once he hung up.
He glanced at me. "Yeah?"
"I need to tell you something."
His eyebrows lifted, impatient. "What?"
"I'm pregnant."
The words hung in the air.
Calix froze. For a split second, I swore I saw surprise—maybe even wonder—but it vanished instantly, replaced by something cold.
"You're what?"
"Pregnant," I repeated, my heart pounding. "We're having a baby."
Silence stretched out, thick and suffocating.
Finally, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
"You've been on birth control the whole time."
"Nothing's a hundred percent," I whispered, my voice cracking.
He paced. Jaw tight. "You planned this?"
"What? No!" I said, unable to believe what I was hearing. This wasn't how I'd imagined this going. Why wasn't he happy?
"Because it sure as hell feels like you're trying to trap me."
The words hit like a slap.
"Calix," I said softly, swallowing hard, "it's our child."
"But this isn't the right time," he muttered, grabbing his jacket. "There's too much going on with Ravenscourge. The treaty negotiations. This just... complicates things."
"So what do you want me to do?" I asked, dreading his answer but needing to hear it.
If he rejected his own child that would be the end. The final straw.
He didn't answer right away. That pause told me everything.
When he finally spoke, his voice was flat.
"You should think about it."
The tears didn't come until after he left, slamming the door behind him.
I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, whispering to the tiny life inside me:
"Don't worry, baby. Even if he doesn't want us, I do. And I promise—I'm going to take you far, far away from this place."
Chapter 3
Calix's POV
I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in a flicker of an eye, catch betrayal in a half-second pause.
So how had I missed this?
I stood in the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Valora fold clothes into neat stacks.
Not the designer dresses she wore to pack events. Not the silk gowns that clung to her curves the way I liked. These were soft knits, cotton shirts—travel clothes.
"Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
She startled slightly but didn't look up.
"Just reorganizing."
I frowned. Something about the way she kept her back half-turned felt deliberate. Like she was hiding something.
Over the past two weeks, she'd gotten quieter. Not cold exactly—but distant.
Our conversations stayed polite, even warm sometimes, but they lacked the sharp edge of our earlier arguments. I almost preferred the fights. At least then she met me head-on.
Now it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't noticed her building.
"Valora," I said, stepping closer. "What's going on?"
She paused, then set down the shirt and faced me with a smile that was too calm.
"Nothing. Why?"
I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what to accuse her of, either.
Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with both hands resting over her stomach.
My gaze drifted there before I could stop it.
She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed it with the pack doctor after she told me. Dr. Salvehart said she was about ten weeks along—conceived the last time we'd been together.
I knew she'd decided to keep it.
I hadn't decided how I felt yet.
I had too many enemies circling right now, looking for a weakness to exploit. And a child—an heir—would be the biggest target of all. With the Ravenscourge Pack breathing down our necks and treaty negotiations on a knife's edge, bringing a pup into this world felt reckless.
"You should be resting," I said, leaning against a column.
"I am resting," she replied without looking at me.
No bite in her tone. But no warmth either.
"Valora..." I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night—"
She turned sharply, her eyes flashing even in the dim light.
"Which part? When you accused me of trapping you? Or when you told me to think about it?"
I clenched my jaw. I really shouldn't have said those things, but the pressure lately has been overwhelming. The countless issues within the pack feel like hell, and I took it all out on her.
"I didn't mean—"
"You meant every word."
She stood and brushed past me like she couldn't stand being near me another second.
I stayed in the garden long after she left, chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt.
But instead of facing it, I shoved it down—like I did with everything when it came to her.
She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for my attention.
I had bigger things to deal with than a mate trying to manipulate me with silence.
Besides, it wasn't like I was cruel. Okay, I was—but not to her.
I provided for her. More than most Lunas could dream of. Security. Wealth. Protection. She never wanted for anything. I let her work her design job in the human city, let her keep her studio both downtown and here at the estate. Most Alphas wouldn't allow that kind of freedom.
And Marcella—she'd always been a constant. She understood pack politics, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could strategize with me without needing explanations.
I knew Valora saw Marcella as a threat. But she wasn't. Marcella was an ally—one I needed to keep the pack intact.
When she came back from the Northern Territories a year ago, things had been falling apart. Deals collapsing. Ravenscourge making moves on our borders. Elders questioning my authority. On the surface, everything looked fine—but only I knew how close we were to losing control.
I could've asked my father's old elders for help, but with the Council already doubting me, showing weakness wasn't an option.
Marcella's connections—her pack's resources, her father's influence in the Western Territories—had kept us afloat. She'd stayed through the worst of it without complaining, without demanding anything in return.
But Valora didn't see any of that.
What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed whispering sweet things when wars were being fought? To hold her hand while enemies plotted to bury us both?
I didn't have time for that. Not yet.
It wasn't that I didn't care about Valora. There were moments I admired her—her quiet strength, the softness in her voice when she spoke to pack members, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was watching.
But admiration was a luxury. And I didn't live on luxuries. I lived on survival.
Survival meant prioritizing the pack. The territory. The alliances that kept us alive.
Valora would understand eventually, when things calmed down. When the smoke cleared and Marcella didn't have to sit through every meeting, every negotiation. I'd have time then.
For now, she just needed to be patient. To trust me.
But instead, she was packing travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice.
Acting like I'd failed her—when I'd given her everything that mattered.
I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing on my chest. My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin.
I wasn't wrong.
I couldn't be wrong.
Could I?
